


Special Night

by Vexterity_Duane



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Fluff, M/M, Omorashi, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24056965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexterity_Duane/pseuds/Vexterity_Duane
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Kudos: 55





	Special Night

It was very nice and a very peaceful evening. Lestrade was watching a football game, lying on his side, head braced up with his hand, wearing a comfortable grey sweatshirt and sweatpants, moreover there was Sherlock pressing against his front. Dresses only in a lose shirt and lose black pants, he was snuggling against Lestrade’s chest, hugging him loosely around his neck while Lestrade’s palm was spread on Sherlock’s small back, holding him quite close to him. Their legs were entangled, breathing even.

It really seemed like a nice evening which two men had decided to enjoy peacefully, in the arms of each other, but Lestrade was well aware it wouldn’t take long for Sherlock to show the first signs of being restless. He checked the time, smiling knowingly it was over five hours since Sherlock had consumed the first glass of water. Then there were many of them and the last one was still waiting on the table.

By this time, Lestrade would be already cursing and squirming, Sherlock on the other hand was adamant to remind still as long as it was possible, but Lestrade knew, he wasn’t going to last long, so he returned his attention to the football game, waiting for his younger lover to commence their own little game.

At first, only a tiny moan came as Sherlock clang more to Lestrade, hugging him tightly, pressing into him his stomach, shaking a bit at the touch. Lestrade smiled broadly and tenderly brought the young man closer to him, reciprocating his tight embrace and placing a loving kiss into his dishevelled hair. They smelled deliciously, mostly shampoo, but also a bit of sweat from Sherlock’s endeavours to remain still.

“Is anything wrong, my boy?” he asked quietly as he wanted to the atmosphere tender, and somehow soft, even though neither of them was soft anymore, Lestrade thought goofily, shoving his hips and his half-hard prick into Sherlock’s groin, but that all only slightly, teasingly. He kissed Sherlock’s hair once again when the younger man shivered in his arms, his legs going rigid among Lestrade’s ones for few seconds.

Sherlock then hummed in agreement, moving a little to hide his face in Lestrade’s neck, breathing heavily right under Lestrade’s ear.

“I need to go the bathroom,” he said meekly, shifting his hips and pressing his also half-hard dick into Lestrade’s, eliciting content sighs from both of them.

“So why don’t you get up and go there?” Lestrade ask innocently, pretending to get back to watching TV, however, he wasn’t even sure whom he wanted to fool. “You’re a grown up boy, you know what to do.”

The following, needy whimper made Lestrade close his eyes as he had to maintain self-control, otherwise he found find the temptation of grinding against Sherlock irresistible. But they had different plan he didn’t want to ruin at all, so instead of that, he simply brushed Sherlock’s hair, before he returned his hand to the younger man’s small back.

“I don’t want to… use the bathroom,” Sherlock whispered right into Lestrade’s ear and this time it was Lestrade who shivered. God, he loved these games, he thought with a broad smile creping upon his face.

“And what do you want, Sherlock?” inquired Lestrade while stroking Sherlock’s back, waiting for the answer with growing anticipation. “I wanna hear it, Sherlock... you know that.”

“I…” Sherlock exhaled, but was interrupted by another spasm of his full bladder, forcing him to clutch of Lestrade firmly, trying to breath evenly, to get himself under control, though Lestrade’s hard prick, pressing into him, and the other man’s laboured breathing weren’t making it any easier. “I want to wet myself,” he managed to say quietly, but audibly for Lestrade to hear him perfectly.

And he did, because he groaned, his hand firmly grabbing Sherlock’s hip, bringing him crotch closer to his, eliciting a strangled moan also from Sherlock.

“This is ridiculous,” commented Sherlock without a sign of pulling away from Greg’s hug.

“What?”

“What? What do you think? It’s ridiculous how fucking aroused I am just because I’m bursting and trying not to wet myself even though that’s the point, while you’re making me talk about what I want and what I feel…” he rambled, making Lestrade feel unease whether he wish to stop or not.

“But… but you like it, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do,” sounded Sherlock quite annoyed before he sighed quietly. “It’s just… Sometimes I can’t believe you’re into every kink I suggest we should try. You’re never disgusted with me, never… you never laugh me off, you just… hear me out and then you get that absurdly twisted glint in your eyes that immediately tell me you’re game.”

“That’s because each of your kinks regards you, Sherlock,” Lestrade replied softly, touched by Sherlock’s words, “so it means it’s going to be hot… And I would’ve never laughed you off only because you just happened to be a kinky bastard,” he chuckled quietly, placing another kiss into Sherlock’s hair as the young man shifted within his arms, mumbling something unintelligible, which to Lestrade sounded a bit like _I’m glad I’ve got you_ but he didn’t ask him to repeat himself. He knew Sherlock loved him otherwise he wouldn’t allow Lestrade to get so close to him… to be so intimate, to talk even not only about their kinks, but also about feelings, in which both of them were clumsy, but so far they managed to communicate enough to be capable of living together, sharing a bed…

“I’ve prepared the other bed for us,” Lestrade remembered and smiled, almost proud with himself he elicited another needy moan from Sherlock.

“And I’m the kinky one,” Sherlock let out a subtle laugh.

“Yes, you’re the kinky one, I’m the responsible one who loves encouraging you in such dirty things, but who also tends to keep the regular sheets clean,” he said, referring to the fact that for their tonight’s game he had prepared a single mattress, placed on a plastic sheet, with pillows, blanket, and everything clean and fresh out of laundry.

“Alright,” Sherlock murmured against Lestrade’s chest, pressing himself closer to hik once again, sighing at the feeling of being utterly full. “God, I need to go…” he moaned when Lestrade thrust his groin into Sherlock’s, grinding their half-hard pricks together.

“I know,” Lestrade whispered and tenderly brushed the hair of his lover, but with the other hand he gave in the urge to touch Sherlock elsewhere, travelling around his waist he lightly, very lightly caressed the distended bladder. “I know,” he repeated breathlessly when realizing that Sherlock really must’ve been bursting, and he absolutely admired his will to remain so calm and still, yet his breath was uneven, and his cock responding to the fact the both of them found Sherlock’s desperation remarkably arousing.

“Greg!” Sherlock groaned at the touch, gripping suddenly on Lestrade’s shoulder to regain control again, then pushing the other man’s hand away, clutching his own cock in order to prevent himself from peeing.

As Sherlock moved again a bit from Lestrade, the older man used the opportunity to sit straight, but didn’t have to do anything else as Sherlock obediently and absolutely willingly straddled his lap, bringing their groins together once again, before he opted for kissing Lestrade hungrily, and Lestrade answered him with equal vigour. It wasn’t able for him to have enough of his utterly full Sherlock who loved to push himself even further, to keep himself on the verge of an accident, and he let him know it through their kiss, passionate, but loving at once. He groped at Sherlock’s butt, holding him firmly on his lap, tenderly forcing their cocks to rut against each other, and he felt another bolt of arousal upon hearing Sherlock’s tiny, panicking whimper, but Sherlock didn’t do anything to get himself out of Lestrade’s hands, he only hugged the other man around his neck, slowing the kiss down till their lips were just slightly touching.

“I fucking adore you,” Lestrade heard his own hoarse voice when he brought some distance between them, looking at Sherlock’s closed eye-lids, flushed cheeks, dishevelled hair and lovely swollen and parted red lips. He was such a beautiful creature, he thought as Sherlock’s eyes opened, the grey depths hazy and burning with desire.

“Take us to bed,” slipped through Sherlock’s mouth the moment he leaned into Lestrade, placing his lips right under Lestrade’s ear, gliding back into their game smoothly. “Please.”

“But you’ve said you needed to visit bathroom,” followed his example Lestrade, locking his hands behind Sherlock’s back, holding him in a comfortable embrace. “Why would you want to go to bed without releasing yourself?”

“Please...” Sherlock repeated meekly and Lestrade hummed in approval as the younger man’s fingers starter scratching his scalp. “Please I want to go to our bed…”

“But why, my good boy, why?” inquired Lestrade further, because he knew it wouldn’t do any harm. “You will wet yourself there… You will ruin the bed completely, do you want that?” he groaned the last part of the sentence as Sherlock’s endeavours in his hair increased.

“I do,” said Sherlock and demonstratively pressed his swollen stomach into Lestrade, forcing the both of them to shiver with anticipation. “God, I want to… I want… piss so badly.”

Upon hearing the sheer desperation in Sherlock’s voice, he assured his grip on Sherlock was firm enough, so he got up and with Sherlock clinging to him, he made his way towards bedroom. Sherlock was quite light, but still, he opted for asking him to let go of him as soon as they reached the mattress because it wasn’t really possible for him to lay Sherlock upon it, without causing some pain either to himself, or to Sherlock, which he didn’t want to risk in the slightest.

As he closed the door, their bedroom plunged into almost complete darkness. Lestrade returned to Sherlock, asking him in a whisper:

“Would you like to lay atop on me, babe?”

For a second he squeezed Sherlock’s shoulder, but as the answer wasn’t coming, he moved his hand higher, burying it in the curls. Sherlock exhaled audibly and leaned into the caressing touch, which sort of satisfied Lestrade who soon lifted the blanket, tucked himself underneath it and tightly embraced Sherlock as he settled upon him, head laid on his chest, breath fending off Lestrade’s neck.

Greg placed his hands on Sherlock’s back, holding him in the place, while their legs entangled once again, and he sighed contently with a hint of arousal as his dick brushed against Sherlock’s, still semi hard, though Greg immediately grew hard when Sherlock trembled within his arms, whimpering meekly and moving his hand in order to grasp himself.

“Sherlock,” he warned him quietly, even though there was no real reason to whisper, but it fitted the atmosphere just fine, “Your hands.”

Without any signs of defiance, Sherlock right away returned his hands on Lestrade’s chest, then obediently shoving them under the older man’s back as he leaned forward. Being trapped like that, Sherlock shivered against Lestrade once more, feeling utterly helpless, desperate and totally aroused as he felt how hard Lestrade was, grinding against him readily, poking gently into his bladder, which was making Sherlock moan softly as he buried his face into Lestrade’s neck in the most beautiful way of playing how ashamed he was.

“Is everything all right, my boy?” he asked innocently, drawing circles on Sherlock’s back with his hand. “Are you warm enough?”

“Yeah,” Sherlock breathed out and hugged Lestrade while leaving his position on his side, forcing his bursting bladder to be trapped between their boddies, making the both of them shiver as Sherlock moaned, then gritted his teeth, and then slowing sinking into Lestrade’s frame, still able to keep his urge under control. Lestrade’s hands on Sherlock’s back pressed him even more to himself, so there was literally not a single inch between them save for their clothes that was only making the whole situation better, at least for Lestrade who absolutely adored the feeling to be laying on his back, fresh sheets under him, squirming and desperate Sherlock atop him, warm and pliant, all around them comfortable pillows and pleasantly heavy blanket.

“It’s perfect,” Sherlock whispered right into Lestrade’s ear, making the older man smile tenderly and twistedly at once.

“Indeed, it is,” Greg agreed, “and what about your bladder, Sherlock?”

“It’s so full…” Sherlock groaned, but this time he didn’t demonstrate it at all as Lestrade literally felt how the poor thing is swollen against his Lestrade’s stomach, though he knew Sherlock was able to endure a bit longer. “I’m so full, Lestrade,” repeated Sherlock, and Lestrade closed his eyes as a bolt of arousal aimed right at his hard cock, brushing against the already wet fabric of his sweatpants, as he was leaking precum to which another drops were added when Lestrade heard his name said by Sherlock in such circumstances. It made it feel so much real…

“Yes, you are…” he said in such hoarse voice Sherlock trembled, clinging to Lestrade desperately. “I can feel it,” he added and very, very gently pressed on Sherlock’s small back, causing Sherlock to gasp for air, but he didn’t try to squirm away, he let himself to be utterly at Lestrade’s mercy, because it drove him crazy with need and lust as well as the thought he was going to ruin this fresh sheets, probably all white and clean, though he couldn’t see it as the room was completely dark, He wasn’t able to see anything, just to feel how comfortable and warm he was in Lestrade’s embrace, and how much he wanted to pee.

“Well, because you refused to use bathroom, you have to wait till the morning,” Lestrade spoke up in an almost ridiculously conversational tone.

“Okay,” Sherlock whispered weakly, his breath suddenly coming in short pants as he was struggling for control.

However, Lestrade was sure he was going to regain it, and for another ten minutes, they were laying almost peacefully in each other’s arms, only their hips were from time to time brushing, keeping their arousal still very alive, but Lestrade knew it was also for the reason that when hard, it was easier for Sherlock not to lose control.

He caressed his hair lovingly, placing a kiss into it.

“You’re doing great,” he praise him and Sherlock elicited a tiny whimper, his legs going rigid for a while.

“But I’m not gonna make it till morning,” sounded Sherlock to be near crying. “I… I have to go…”

“You can’t, we’re in the bed, trying to get to sleep…” Lestrade protested without any hint of real disapprove. “You’re staying here with me.”

“I… I want to stay here…” the younger man shifted a bit. “with you.”

Lestrade smiled and brushed again Sherlock hair, whispering:

“That’s right, Sherlock, just stay here…”

“But… but I’m going to wet myself,” he almost sobbed in Lestrade’s arms before he trembled violently. “I’m going to piss the bed… and you…”

Upon these words, Lestrade made a glottal sound, something between growl and moan, but he managed to stay within his role, saying:

“It’s alright, my boy,” he pressed again lightly on Sherlock’s small back, eliciting another desperate cry from the younger man. “It’s completely alright,” went his voice hoarse as he realized he had given Sherlock approval of going, that he had done it again, willingly, with achingly hard cock trapped between them, and that he absolutely wanted it… he wanted… “I want you to wet yourself right here.”

Sherlock hugged him even tightly, pressing his half hard cock into Lestrade’s crotch, sending shivers through the older man whose mind was completely focused only on Sherlock, on his desperation, and on his own arousal caused by the previous two aspects.

“I want it, too,” he heard a low whisper coming from Sherlock’s mouth, and of course, he believed him though he was still aware of it could be hard to pee while sporting a boner.

“Just go whenever you feel like it, babe,” he assured him, trying then to relax, to shift his attention to something else, so he could be caught off guard as soon as it would happen, but it wasn’t very much possible. Sherlock’s presence was too much to be simply ignored, the bulge against his own abdomen too apparent, and his dick ached for more friction, and also for something else, something Lestrade desired as much as Sherlock whose control was slipping through his hands. The genius was gripping on Lestrade sweatshirt under the older man, his breath laboured, his muscles tensing and relaxing constantly, and Lestrade awaited the inevitable in anticipation.

Everything was warm and soft around them, darkness, peace, and quiet surrounded them, but Lestrade was well aware of the fight, storming inside Sherlock whose hair was utterly damp now, clothed sticking to him as he was sweating from the toil.

“I’m losing it…” was the sweetest music to Lestrade’s ear as Sherlock inhaled sharply. “I’m… I’m…”

“Just do it, Sherlock,” he encouraged the younger man and held him tight, stroking his hair, “Just pee on me...”

“Argh…” Sherlock’s breath got hitched in his throat as he went rigid against Lestrade, who in few seconds felt the wonderful wetness, spreading between them, soaking his sweatpants, flooding his crotch and pooling underneath them. At first, he almost forgot to breath. That much he was savouring the moment when Sherlock lost control, when he started pissing in their bed, but soon enough he was panting, grinding his hard cock against Sherlock, against the stream of warm liquid, drenching them both utterly.

Sherlock kept clinging to him, though with every second he was becoming more and more relaxed and with a loud huff, he buried his face again into Lestrade’s neck while still pissed, pulling then his hand from below his body. Moaning quietly, he pushed his crotch into Lestrade, making the older man moan hoarsely, lustfully, and Sherlock smiled absentmindedly at how much his lover adored these games, almost to the same extent Sherlock loved them, so it was not wonder as soon as the last drops tickled out of his dick, he started getting hard.

Lestrade felt the warm liquid to soak into everything that was adjacent, everything around their groins was wet and warm and messy, and he knew he wasn’t going to be tired of it ever, moreover not after Sherlock searched for his lips and kissed him hungrily while their dicks were trying to get as much friction as possible, and how the both of them were trapped inside their drenched clothes.

However, he was so aroused, he didn’t need more. He gave a bit surprised moan, for last three times his thrust against Sherlock, and then he was coming with arced back and a curse upon his lips.

“God… Sherlock!” he managed as his pants got even dirtier and messier, before he fall back into cushions, breathing hard and smiling like an idiot. “Fuck that was awesome...”

Sherlock chuckled quietly and planted a small kiss on Lestrade’s damp forehead, but getting restless as he desired more of Greg’s attention, but the older man didn’t make him wait as he hooked his thumbs on Sherlock’s underwear, sliding the piece of cloth down. Then he urged Sherlock to get off him, throwing the blanket away and without a hint of hesitation he bowed his head down, taking Sherlock in his mouth in one smooth motion.

Sherlock made barely a sound, it was more like his breath died inside his throat at the sudden feeling of boing inside Lestrade’s mouth. Gripping on the sheets, he let his head to fall back while his hips were thrusting into the hot wetness, and he groaned wantonly when Lestrade sucked him relentlessly, when he wanted more of his, which Sherlock was very eager to give him as found himself to be on the edge almost embarrassingly quickly. He only managed to place his hand atop of Lestrade’s head and he was coming hard, panting , sweating, and finally relaxing utterly, spent and pleasantly empty.

His lips twitched to form a smile when Lestrade hummed in satisfaction, for Sherlock absent-mindedly returned to scratching the older man’s scalp.

“Come here,” he said quietly, waiting for Greg to reach his mouth, so they could kiss, and he could feel his stubby against his own. He also appreciated the taste of himself on Lestrade’s lips and Greg knew it, so he plundered Sherlock’s mouth to give him as much of his seed as he could.

Sherlock even moan softly, willing and eager for the second round, but he still wanted to let Greg rest for a while, so he suggested to get back to their previous position, also with blanket covering them both, but without clothes.

“We can’t stay like this for long, you know that,” Lestrade murmured when their legs entangled again and Sherlock was breathing contently into his neck.

“Yeah, I know, but it mostly depends on you,” he remarked matter-of-factly.

Lestrade chuckled.

“You’re expecting me to be as filthy as you and wet the bed?”

“Please?”

Greg produced a sound expressing a mixture of frustration and amusement.

“God, you’re just unbelievable,” more like adoration than resignation reached his voice as he opted for brushing Sherlock’s hair lovingly.

“And you don’t know about all of my dirty fantasies yet,” Sherlock teased him a bit. “Some of them are…”

“Weird?” Lestrade suggested.

“The most vanilla ones, yes.”

“Something’s telling I should be afraid, but I’m just… looking forward,” Greg sighed and hugged the younger man tighter, trying to show him he meant it.

“I love you,” Sherlock whispered. “Even when you’re lying in a puddle of piss.”

“You bastard,” Greg gave a hearty laugh before he softly added: “I love you, too.”


End file.
